


Shallow

by minnesotamemelord



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing, Gen, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt Tony Stark, M/M, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-06-15 03:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19603228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minnesotamemelord/pseuds/minnesotamemelord
Summary: In the countless arguments they had over the years, Tony and Steve learned how to press each others’ buttons. And still, it was all superficial- no more than glancing blows that never touched below the surface. But there’s only so much a man can take before you push him to his breaking point.





	Shallow

Tony wasn’t sure how the argument started.

He was never sure. It always started the same way, over something stupid and irrelevant. The thing that made them spiral out of control, that pushed them away from whatever pointless argument they were having, was that they knew each other too well. They knew where each of their buttons was and just how to press them to make it hurt. This didn't hurt. Not in the typical, dictionary definition sense. This was more like being skinned alive, rolled in hot coals, and being shoved into a pit of rusty spikes and lava. 'Ouch' didn't quite cover it.

"You realize that none of this matters, right? Because no matter what I or anyone else think, you're just going to ignore us and do whatever the hell you want anyway!" Steve paced the room, his faced screwed in something that could have been concentration or maybe just rage.

"Yeah, and you know what?" Tony asked coldly, with his legs kicked up on the table, his eyes following Steve back and forth across the room. "It always goes well for me. Which is better than I can say for you. What happened when you decided to crash that plane into the ice? Or, uh- oh, what was it that happened to your friend? You know, the one on the train? The one you _dropped?"_ Steve reached out and grabbed Tony by the collar. Tony heard the seam rip as Steve yanked him out of his chair. His feet barely touched the ground and he scrambled for purchase, for something, anything to pull himself away.

"Don't you _dare_ talk about Bucky. He was a hero. An _actual_ hero. Unlike you." Steve released Tony, shoving him back into his seat.

"Better to know I'm not a hero than to have such a massive hero complex. What's it like thinking that everyone else would be in mortal peril if you weren't there to save them? Guess what, Captain? I'm o-fucking-kay without you. I don't need you. _We_ don't need you." Tony gestured around the room. Everyone else had left the room when the argument started to get real, but the gist was clear. "Nobody needs you anymore. It's not the 40s anymore. We don't need some souped-up American god protecting us. We probably would have been better off if you died in the ice 70 years ago." Tony said that last line under his breath, but Steve still heard it. He snapped around to face Tony, eyes blazing like blue fire.

"My 'hero complex'-" Steve put air quotes around the words. "-is nothing compared to your god complex. You don't give a shit about anyone but yourself, Tony. And if the world doesn't need me, they sure as hell don't need a narcissistic, self-centered jackass like you. You are a shallow, surly, far-from-genius egomaniac-"

"And _you_ are a stubborn, judgemental, asinine goody-two-shoes with nothing better to do than get on my ass about every single little thing I do wrong. So I guess we both suck."

"Do you ever take anything seriously? You're just sitting back with that smug smile like this is nothing!" Just like that, the so-called "smug smile" dropped off Tony's face, replaced by the unmistakable fury that so often crossed his face, especially in recent years.

"I could not be taking this more seriously, I promise you." Tony's features contorted until they were almost unrecognizable. "And maybe- just _maybe-_ the reason my head isn't currently exploding like yours is, the reason I'm not yelling until my face turns into a tomato, is because you have pushed me so far that I cannot physically raise my voice." There was an icy edge to Tony's voice, like nothing Steve had ever heard before. "So maybe before you jump to conclusions, as you so often do, you should take a look at yourself." Tony patted Steve's chest twice, flashed him a patronizing smile, and pushed past him, nailing him with a shoulder as he went.

"Hey. Tony." Clint, who had apparently been listening through the door, grabbed him by the elbow as he left. "You sure you want to leave it like that? You both said some things, and I'm not so sure you want to make those the last things you said to each other."

"I'm sorry, Barton, did I ask for your opinion?" Without waiting for an answer, Tony stepped around Clint and stormed out, his brown eyes blazing with unmatched fury.

Upstairs, Tony's breathing came fast and heavy, his knuckles wrapped in white boxing tape. He was blind to the world, everything except his fists and the bag. Not even tunnel vision, just an eternal void, black and cold and empty. Not even enough room for his thoughts. If he could stay here, stay in this box, and just keep punching, he could keep the thoughts out of his head. Of words he didn't mean leaving his lips without a second thought. Of Steve's crestfallen expression as Tony shoved past him. And just like that, his movements slowed. His stamina was fading, the adrenaline leaving his system just as fast as it had come. The black box was fading, falling away until it had completely disappeared, replaced by his room, by the blinding fluorescent lights he now regretted installing. He didn’t regret what he had said, though. That was what he kept thinking, kept pounding into his own thoughts, over and over and over again. He didn’t regret it. He couldn’t regret it. He had too many regrets and he couldn’t afford to add another one to the list.

”Fuck him,” he muttered, unwrapping the tape from his hands.

But it wasn’t true, was it? Tony regretted everything he said. He always did. It was the downside to being so headstrong and hedonistic. He went for whatever he wanted, but always seemed to wish he hadn’t. And besides, hadn’t everything Steve said about him been true? He was an egomaniac with a god complex. Nobody had to say that for him to know it. Tony laughed bitterly, wiping blindly at a tear that streaked down his face. He was about as far from God as he could possibly get right about now.

He yanked his T-shirt over his head and tossed it carelessly in the general direction of the laundry hamper, missing by about a yard. He approached the bed, ready to fall in and let the covers overtake him in a sea of silk when there was a knock on his bedroom door. Half-asleep, Tony groaned.

”Who is it?” There was a moment of silence, then a response.

”It’s Steve.” Tony didn’t reply. He sat on the edge of the bed, his legs suddenly unable to hold him up. He inhaled sharply, unsure what to say.

”What... Christ, Steve, what do you want?” His head fell forward into his hands. He pulled his fingers through his hair.

”Can I come in?” Tony’s head snapped up.

”No, Steve, you can’t come in.” His voice was once again cold and sharp, with a cutting edge.

”Fine. Just... can we talk?”

”You can talk. I’ll try to listen.” Tony folded his arms and stood again, pacing back and front in front of the door.

”I’m sorry, I guess. No, I- I am sorry. Really. I said some really, really shitty things to you. They weren’t true. I was just angry and I took it out on you. The truth is...” From inside the room, Tony heard something thunk against the door, then slump to the floor. Steve was sitting with his back leaning against the door. “I’m jealous, I think. Of you. You’re so confident in every decision you make. So sure. I’ve never been sure of anything in my life, except joining the army. You jump in headfirst to everything, and I wish so much I could be like that. The truth is, I’m so scared all the time that something’ll happen. To the team, to the world. To you. So I feel like I have to hold you back, because otherwise you’re going to get yourself killed, and I don’t think I could live with that. But you’re your own person, and I need to remember that. We don’t exist in a vacuum. We’re our own people outside of the Avengers, and I need to let you go. So yeah, I’m sorry. For everything.” Tony teetered back, letting himself slump against the door from his own side. In all his time thinking about why Steve was so uptight, why he always seemed to have a stick up his ass, why his focus was always protecting themselves, he had never once thought of that. 

He opened the door, and Steve toppled back into the room, half-in and half-out. His clear blue eyes stared up at Tony, furrowed in confusion. Tony held out a hand to help him up. When Steve was on his feet, they just stared at each other for a moment, regarding one another almost carefully, cautiously, like a scientist discovering a new species. And then, almost in slow motion, or so it felt, Tony leaned in, pressing his lips against Steve’s. He wasn’t sure why he was doing it, just that he couldn’t quite seem to find the words to put in place, so this seemed like the only response. To his surprise, Steve didn’t tense up or pull away. He leaned into the kiss, pulling Tony closer. They stumbled further into the room, slamming the door shut behind them. Tony’s hands found their way into Steve’s soft blond hair, deepening the kiss hungrily, furiously, like he needed it more than he needed air. 

Steve’s jacket and shirt came off quickly, leaving them bare chest to bare chest, the heat practically radiating off of both of them. Tony broke off the kiss, pressing their foreheads together.

”I’m sorry, too.” Steve chuckled breathlessly.

”I know.”

”I really am, I-“

”Hey. It doesn’t matter.” Steve’s thumb brushed Tony’s cheek, and then it was over, just a blip in time, but enough to break the dam. They fell into each other, finding their way in the dark. The lights were off, but it didn’t matter. They weren’t necessary. In the dark, their warts and flaws were invisible to each other. They could just be.


End file.
